Safe Haven
by I Like Cinnamon Rolls
Summary: It's freezing outside but the cold warms his heart.


His day cannot _possibly_ get any more annoying.

Things are blowing up. The men are freezing to death. He needs more goddamned morphine.

And of course, he's stuck in a sea of rotting and wounded men with no idea how to navigate through it.

The hospital is set up in a village church and there's barely enough room to breathe. It isn't made any easier by the pile of decomposing corpses outside the front door. Medics scurry around like ants, but none of them have the faintest on where he can get some supplies.

So when Eugene sees her, it's almost like he's gone up to heaven.

Apart from the fact that she blatantly ignores him when he tries to talk to her.

The nurse wears a blue scarf around her head and does her job efficiently. She's rather pretty, as well, or a least would be if he ignored the caked-on blood up to her elbows. Also, she seems adamant about having him leave, so he mentally wrings her neck and follows her around, peppering her with annoying questions along the way just to be as irritating as possible.

\

Later, he looks back on the encounter and decides that she isn't so bad, after all. She reminds him of his grandmother.

\

It still takes a while (and a couple more trips into town) for him to get used to her, though. He can't trust too soon, but don't let anyone know.

\

Nothing seals a friendship like failing to save the life of a wounded man together. It's one of the best he's had in this war, though. She sees his demons and he sees hers. Every time Eugene looks at her he sees less of the blood and more of the girl underneath it. She's everything he's ever strived to be, kind and caring and with a smile that shines better than the sun. He hopes that she feels half as much as him. It goes the way regular friendships go, despite the war.

He tries not to think about the possibility that, in the future, the blood covering her body might even be_ hers_. He knows that if he does, he probably won't ever speak to her again.

\

He takes her chocolate and goes around offering it to everyone, though most refuse. The men need fixing, he can see it in their eyes, and it just seems _better_ for her to do it, even in spirit. It's an odd combination of failure and gratitude, but he doesn't mind it all that much.

\

Clandestine smiles and whispered replies. They way her hands sheepishly pick at the candy wrapper. He hasn't known her for long, but he's come to enjoy her company the same way he enjoys air. It's heavensent, the way just the sight of her can warm your heart- a gift. And he won't admit it, but he thinks that she's his gift too, for making it this far.

They sit on little old rickety chairs and talk about pointless things together under the winter sun. It's the first time he's been okay in a long while.

\

The next time he sees her, he doesn't.

There's fire _everywhere_ and he can't even smell the stench of dead bodies over the smoke and the aid station is burning, _God save him_.

He almost thinks he can go looking for her until he sees a piece of blue fabric sticking out of the debris, and it's that same crushing feeling.

Black spots cloud his vision._ Not like this. She doesn't deserve it. Please._

He can't hope. Eugene Roe is a trained medic. Army medic. He can't, it's written in his bones,_ he can't_...

He turns the cloth in his fingers and holds back the bile rising in his throat.

...but sometimes, he really wishes he can.

(Wishes don't come true, though, so when he's called, he leaves.)

\

Harry Welsh doesn't get his hot meal, but stays alive. Eugene thinks he would've gone crazy if he hadn't.

\

Later, he finds out that he stepped on Heffron's hand in his haste. What was underneath it, he doesn't know, but it must've been something sharp because there's a long gash running along Edward's palm.

He's short on supplies. Very short. But he has something, at least, and it's better than nothing.

This is something he knows by heart, fixing people. But somehow, it's different this time. Then he realizes that the piece of cloth he's holding is the only thing he brought back from Bastogne. And the only thing left of it.

It's hers, and his, so he moves to put it back in his pocket. Then his eyes find Heffron's bloody hand and he remembers his job. _No, it's not for you._

He turns her scarf into a bandage and he gives Heffron everything he has, because it's only everything Renee has ever done. For a while, he's happy, because she's still there.

_I promise I won't waste your life, Renee. I promise, I promise._

\

He'd never tell anyone, but he never ate that chocolate. Not even after this long. He keeps it close to his heart, always. Wrapped in half a piece of cloth that he also keeps close to his heart. Hard times dredge up memories of her, the very worst kind of beauty.

_It's not a gift._

_Wait, please._

_God would never give such a painful thing._

_Where are you from?_

_I never want to treat another wounded man again._

_Eugene._

_My name is Renee._

_Chocolat. Pour vous._

For you.

She knew him before she really met him. It only took him this long to figure it out.

It's the first time blue silk has seen moonlight in a long, long time. The chocolate is cold and brittle in his hands. And breaking. Like him. He has to cough to keep himself from crying, so he takes a bite and lets her heal him, maybe just this once.

(And somehow, he feels alright again.)


End file.
